Of High Lords and Heirs

23

Tamlin couldn't believe what he was hearing. It couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. It was impossible. Preposterous. It went against all laws of nature, of succession. He had been crowned High Lord of the Spring Court after his family had been killed, and he would be High Lord until he died. No one could possibly change, or alter, that fact. Once a High Lord of Prythian, always a High Lord of Prythian.

He must have misheard them. There was no other alternative. There was no way to strip a ruling High Lord of the title. This was some elaborate hoax. They had to be playing some sort of cruel practical joke on him. Why though, he had no idea whatsoever.

"I'm sorry, I think I must have misheard you," Tamlin said more calmly then he felt. "Can you please repeat yourself?"

"For your various crimes, it has been decided that you will be stripped of your title of High Lord," Thesan rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Yes, that's what I thought you said," Tamlin said, more confused than ever. "And yet, I do not believe such a thing to be possible. It goes against nature to strip a High Lord of Prythian of his hereditary titles. At least not before he has a child of his own for the title to pass down to. And as my only scion as not yet been born..."

"A cousin, then," Lucien said irritatedly. He was suddenly remembering his conversation with Helion and Thesan a few weeks ago on how Spring's ruling family ought to be bigger than just its High Lord. From their expressions, he could tell that Thesan and Helion were remembering it as well. "Surely you have to have a cousin."

"You know that I don't have any living relatives, Lucien," Tamlin snapped. "I told you that myself, years ago."

"A ruling family needs to be larger than just it's High Lord," Lucien persisted. "For what if you were to die without a heir? Without ever having children of your own?"

"That's not possible," Tamlin scoffed. "I do not ever recall a case where that has happened. There has always been someone to take the mantle. Always. There has always been a heir. There has always been a son to take his father's post, it has never been a mere cousin. You all must know that."

"We know that sometimes an heir has been just a mere cousin and not a son. The lines of succession is almost never clear and direct," Tarquin said quietly. "I myself am proof of that. After all, my predecessor as the High Lord of Summer, Nostros, was a cousin of mine.

""An irregularity, I'm sure," Tamlin said haughtily. "I would not have allowed any cousin of mine to live. I did not allow any threat to my power to exist."

"What are you saying, Tamlin?" a voice said quietly. Tamlin was still so much in shock that he was unable to determine who was speaking. "Are you quite possibly saying... Did you murder your surviving relatives? Cousins and the like?"

"I don't like the word murder," Tamlin enunciated his words carefully. "So clunky and inelegant. I myself much prefer the term consolidating my own power. Which I did almost as soon as I became a High Lord of Prythian. I consolidated my own power within my territory by getting rid of anyone who might be a threat to me."

"You did," Lucien said shocked. "You killed your own family. Did they even realise why you wanted them dead? Or did you not give them a reason before you killed them in cold blood?"

Tamlin blinked slowly. He did not understand why everyone was so shocked by his actions. Surely any one else in his position would have done the same? Killed any rivals to their power base? If one of his own brothers had survived that night when they'd been murdered by Rhysand, they would have done the exact same thing. Would have done everything within their power to inherit the title of High Lord. Even if it had meant killing him.